


Puppy Love

by Werewolfbeans



Series: The Adventures of Fido [1]
Category: Original Work, teratophilia - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Giveaway, Teratophilia, Werewolf, gender neutral reader, male werewolf - Freeform, sfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 04:52:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12269283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Werewolfbeans/pseuds/Werewolfbeans
Summary: You just want to take out the trash, but a troublesome visitor may ruin that plan- and turn your life upside down.





	Puppy Love

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my tumblr werewolfbeans, and written in July.

It was 9:00 PM when your eyes snapped open from your impromptu nap, violently remembering trash day was  _ tomorrow _ , and you had yet to put your trash in the dumpster outside your apartment building. Due to a weird, bullshit-like rule, you had to deposit any trash there. Considering you had  _ forgotten  _ to put your trash in the dumpster last week, your apartment was starting to smell like rotting noodles and pungent, decomposing fruit.

 

You swear, the nerve of some landlords.

 

As you, begrudgingly, got out of bed, cursing your boss for making you work weird hours, and messing up your sleep schedule, you gathered the trash (excluding yourself, of course), and started heading downstairs. For once, you were glad you managed to wear your pajama capris. Summer is just too hot for ACTUAL pants.

 

As you walked down the stairs, you wondered about recent events. You recently got promoted to- gasp! Twenty more cents an hour. There’s also something apparently eating all the garbage in the area. You think the garbage men are slightly happy about that- after all, no one wants to deal with Mrs. Kramber’s six-month old fruit cake.

 

You stepped out into the humid, insufferable night, and promptly stopped yourself from pissing your pants, because uh, holy shit, you see something big and furry and  **moving** in the dumpster. You’d heard from the college-goers in 4-B that it was  _ some  _ kind of dog, but you didn’t think it’d be fucking Clifford the Big Gross Dumpster-eater. You vaguely wondered how fast you can run to the pound, before the big... _ something  _ finally took notice of you.

 

Good lord, those eyes were  _ piercing _ . Were you not scared out of your mind, you think you’d be lost in them. In hindsight, you think you could see how hungry and in-need the creature was, just by looking into it’s eyes.

 

What really got your tootsies rolled, though, was the fact that before you could run into the door behind you, it  _ spoke _ . Or really, rather-  _ he  _ spoke to you. 

 

“Oh god- uhm- h-hey, take it easy now, buddy-”

 

Take it easy? Take it EASY?! This fucker thinks he can just waltz up, eat that four-month old pear you’ve been staring at for at least three months, and tell you to ‘take it easy’? You’re about to be the next fuckin’ employee at the dog pound, if Dumpster-Diver here doesn’t-

 

“I swear, uh, I’ll be out of your hair, I just-”

 

You were about to open your mouth and REALLY let him have it, until you heard the very loud, slightly concerning growl of his stomach. Suddenly, which wasn’t really suddenly at all, and just you suppressing your anger, you felt bad for the talking hell-demon from, well, hell. Your expression softened from the glare, that would SURELY make even a war general cower, and you put the trash bags down.

 

“Okay, okay. Calm down, Riding Hood- I won’t call the pound, or the zoo just yet. Now, tell me- what  _ are  _ you? And why are you eating that god-awful mush my neighbor calls a meatloaf?” You ask, crossing your arms and tilting your head.

 

The creature seemed to judge you for a few seconds, before slowly coming into the light, and  _ oh that’s a wolf alright _ , and now you KINDA regret calling him Red Riding Hood.

 

As if sensing your new-found fear, the wolf halted, before sitting down a few feet away from you. You vaguely wondered why he was sitting...almost  _ human  _ like, but remembered you were getting paid tomorrow, thus meaning you can buy that game, FINALLY, and kept it to yourself. 

 

“S...so, uh. I guess this is the finest dining you could find, huh?” You joke, causing the other to snort. Okay, so Lassie has a sense of humor. That’s good.

 

“My old hunting grounds got dozed, and I’ve had to find a new place to hide out. The city’s big enough where I can stay in the alleys, but…”

 

He looked behind him, at the mushy mess of a dumpster. 

 

“It can get a bit desperate sometimes.”

 

“Hey- I ain’t judging you,” You say, sitting down on the steps. “I’m in debt- and lord knows I’ve been divin’ a few times myself. Although, uh, I usually run into raccoons, not talking wolves.”

 

He snorts, again, and you kinda start loving that sound, actually. It’s nice and quiet, and makes you want to smile yourself- that motherfucker.

 

“I’m a werewolf, smartass. I don’t usually look like this- but it takes too much energy to hold my facade up. Hence the dumpster diving.”

 

A werewolf, huh? You made a mental note to stop browsing FurAffinity with him around, and to clear your browsing history, for uh, for the feds. Y’know- illegal music downloading, and CERTAINLY not romance novels involving vampires and other monsters.

 

“Well, at least I can cross off ‘didn’t get eaten by a supernatural monster’ off my bucket list.” You joke, offering a strained, but friendly, smile. 

 

He laughs- a real, genuine laugh, and oh lord almighty, send you to church cause you should  _ not  _ be loving this so much. You hope he doesn’t notice your red cheeks, cause wow, talk about  _ awkward _ .

 

“Well, to be fair- I’m not exactly into eating things that scream at me to stop. Makes me feel bad, and kills the vibe, y’know?” He says, in what you  _ hope  _ is a joking manner. You laugh nervously, just in case. You’re pretty sure he can sense your unease.

 

“Anyways-” You interject, hoping to change the topic. “I, uh, have some left-overs up in my apartment, if you wanted some actual food for once. I assume your tastes aren’t  _ too  _ refined.” You offer, starting to stand up again.

 

He opens his mouth- most likely, to accept your offer, before a siren a couple blocks away goes off. It startles him, and you, which breaks the sort of...spell in the air, that you weren’t all quite aware of. You suddenly smell the dumpster again, and you finally notice just  _ how  _ thin the wolf is. You feel a twinge in your chest, and now owe your friend five dollars, since you think this is something  _ more  _ than just sympathy and pity.

 

“As, uh, tempting as that is,” He starts, standing up as well (though still on all four of his legs), “I can’t stay here. It’s too populated- too dangerous. I’ll, uh. I’ll come back though- definitely.”

 

You should NOT have been as relieved as you were to hear that. You’re about to let him go, when you remember you don’t even know his name.

 

“Wait- isn’t there something I can call you? A name, a dog breed- anything?”

 

He snorts, and gives you a soft smile. You truly do not deserve to enjoy this, but by god you are. 

 

“My name’s Fido- okay, okay! You can stop laughing- please. I have to go now, though- but I’ll be back, and you  _ better  _ have those leftovers ready.”

 

Trying, desperately, and failing to hold back your snickers, you nod, waving him off. “Yeah yeah- just get out of here before the pound comes.”

 

As he leaves, you almost don’t catch your own smile, as you pick up the garbage bags. You have a feeling you’re going to enjoy dinner with Fido, when he comes back.


End file.
